The Queen

3. Royal Wedding

Samira walked slowly and gracefully down the long aisle. She felt the warmth of the tall torches that lined her path, but the warmest sensation came from the gaze of her future husband. Their eyes locked, and a strange force seemed to take over, making it impossible to look away. Her heart pounded with the unfamiliar feeling, and she sensed his did too.

Samira noticed how tense the prince looked, his fists clenched at his sides. King James leaned in and whispered something into his ear.

She stopped beside him, breaking their gaze. They both turned to Neoh, who began the ceremony. His voice was solemn and deep, speaking of trust, respect, and the sacredness of marriage. But while Neoh's words filled the air, Philip's mind was somewhere else entirely—lost in thoughts of Alice, the woman he once promised to marry.

It was time for the Fire Ceremony. Bride and groom each held a small torch and together lit a large bowl of fire. Neoh spoke of how the flame symbolized their union and the promise to keep it burning through commitment and care. Philip rolled his eyes subtly. He could barely believe he was pledging himself to a stranger while his heart already belonged to someone else. He vowed silently he would never honor this marriage—he'd made too great a sacrifice already.

"I declare you man and wife. Prince Philip, you may now uncover your bride's face," Neoh concluded.

Philip stood frozen, lost in thought.

"Philip!" King James called out sharply, snapping him back to the moment.

"Yes, Father," he replied, his irritation barely hidden.

"Please, Prince Philip," Neoh said again. "Remove the bride's veil."

Samira's gaze dropped to the floor. His reluctance made her uncomfortable, and she didn't know where to look. But when she felt his hand touch the edge of her veil, her eyes lifted to meet his—and once more, those green eyes struck something in him. Gently, he unwrapped the veil, and her face was revealed.

He froze.

That face—the one from the forest.

It all came rushing back. He nearly smirked, trying to suppress it, but it was like something deeper had taken over. He couldn't help himself.

Samira blushed, the pink tint soft but visible on her cheeks. She quickly lowered her gaze, but Philip reached out and tilted her chin up with one finger. He needed to see her eyes again.

Their gaze locked, and the world fell silent.

Samira smiled.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes dropping to her lips.

Then—Alice.

Her image flashed in his mind. Her voice. Her smile.

Guilt hit him like a wave.

He jerked back, frustrated with himself—for what he almost did and how much he wanted to do it. Unable to bear it, he turned and walked away.

He heard his father call after him, louder each time, but he didn't stop. He didn't care. He had already sacrificed his heart—Alice's heart—all to please his father. He had done more than enough.

That night, Samira returned to her chambers and asked the guard to summon Esma—not because she needed help getting ready for bed, but because she needed the one person who knew her better than anyone.

Esma usually waited for Samira each night, but tonight, assuming the couple would spend the evening alone, she had left early.

Moments later, she burst into the room.

Samira stood by the window, her eyes unfocused.

"My lady, are you alright? Do you feel ill? Should I call the healer?"

"I'm fine."

"I don't understand. Why are you here?"

"He walked away. No one knows where he went."

"Who?"

"The prince. My... husband."

"Why would he leave on his wedding night?" Esma asked aloud, more to herself than to Samira.

Samira turned to face her friend. "Tell me, Esma. Am I unattractive?"

"What? Why are you asking me that?"

"Just be honest. I won't be mad—I just need the truth."

Esma took her hands gently. "My lady, please don't ever doubt your beauty. You are beautiful."

"Then why? Why would he do that?" Samira's voice cracked. "He took off my veil. I thought... for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But instead, he left. He just walked away, even with his father calling him. I think... I think he doesn't like me, Esma."

Her tears welled, and soon, they fell freely.

"I'm so sorry, Samira." Esma pulled her into an embrace.

"Time to wake up, princess. We need to pack. We're leaving in two hours."

"Leaving where, Esma?" Samira mumbled, eyes still closed, hoping to fall back into the sleep that numbed her shame.

"To our new home. Esparcia."

"We're not going anywhere. My husband walked away from me, remember? No one even knows where he is."

"He's downstairs, actually," Esma replied. "Having breakfast with both kings. That's what your father told me when he asked me to get you."

"What?!" Samira shot up, fully awake now. "He came back?"

"Yes, my lady. Looks like he did."

"He can go to hell, then," Samira said, trying to mask the strange excitement rising in her chest. But Esma knew better—she'd seen Samira in every shade of emotion since childhood.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Mhm." Samira nodded, feigning indifference.

Esma suppressed a laugh. "Alright then. I'll go tell the kings and the prince you're not coming. I suppose we're staying in Kalon."

She turned toward the door.

"Wait."

Esma looked back, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Unfortunately, I am in his life now. I can't just ignore that. You know it."

"You're absolutely right, my lady," Esma said. "Now, let's get you ready."

End of this chapter

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